I show up suddenly, in the sand, in front of Great-Great-Grandpa Mark Mayo’s house in Century, Florida–at the Mayo reunion in 1906.

Ha, ha, ha–I told them!  It’s just sand–no green lawn, you’re poor as hell!  Pardon my language–has the photograph been taken yet?

They just nod.

Good, at least I didn’t spoil it!  I wanted to upload the photograph on this drunken post, but my scanner doesn’t work!  You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?  I am naked, except for this pair of athletic shorts.  Again, I apologize.  But would you believe I’ve dreamed of this moment for years?  There is no time–it is a construct of man, who cannot comprehend eternity.  There is no space–it is a construct of man, who cannot comprehend infinity.  Would you believe those fools have yet to publish that?  That poem of mine merits publication on those two lines alone! And it is right on the money–not only have I traveled through time, but space as well!  Yes, I am quite drunk–again I apologize.  A few glasses of Guinness beer, and a lot more shots of Baileys Irish Cream, mixed with Starbucks Breakfast Blend coffee–Irish coffee!  I know you haven’t heard of Starbucks coffee–but don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Guinness, and of Baileys!

I get to my feet.

Hello, Grandpa!  I say to the baby behind a bush.

And Great-Grandpa Wade, and Great-Grandma McCurdy!

And Great-Great-Grandpa Mark!  Thank you for serving your country!  My condolences for your brother Frederick–I understand he died from his injuries.  It is of you I spoke–being poor.  I told them most Confederate soldiers (then veterans) were poor–I was right.

Them–the ignorant Americans of the 21st century, who have more access to more information than their ancestors, yet are too foolish to make use of it!  Their ignorance is paradoxical–their apathy and complacency inexcusable!

I am your progeny, in Pensacola, October 2, 2015.  Appreciate your time–for I come from the end of the world!

And I fade back here, to this chair, to this desk, at this computer monitor–writing matter into antimatter, as I write in another of my unpublished poems.

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